


Push me around

by Dienda



Series: Push me Around [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Prison Sex, Set in Mukozuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dienda/pseuds/Dienda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal never imagined someone else would be the one to enjoy the fruits of his labor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push me around

**Author's Note:**

> Promoting [Hannibal ACCA](http://hannibal-acca.tumblr.com/) Charity Project!

Will was expecting it. He’d seen it in the orderly’s eyes when he removed the handcuffs and released him from the cage, and he’d felt it in the soft touch to his wrists when he was taken back to his cell. He’d asked for a proof of loyalty and it was only fair that he returned a similar gesture. Not that Brown would demand it or even resent him if he didn’t offer, but their earlier talk had more than implied it.

So, after the lights dimmed, Will lay down and waited. He could hear the faint electrical hum of the lamps and Gideon’s light snoring. He waited almost two hours before he heard the gate at the end of the hall opening, not the loud electrical buzzing but a quieter metallic rattle that said it was being opened manually.

He didn’t look at Brown until the man was inside the cell. His white uniform gave him a ghostly appearance in the barely-there glow of the nightlights. He seemed uninterested in awkward overtures; without saying a word, he started stripping and folded his clothes in a neat pile on the floor. Will did the same without rising from the cot. He had no qualms about trading his body for the death of Hannibal Lecter; it was such a bargain he couldn’t even consider it a sacrifice.

“Mr Graham,” whispered Brown as he lowered himself onto the dirty mattress.

“It’s Will, please, Matthew.”

“Will.”

A hand settled on his side, fingers moving against his skin in shy curiosity. Will took a deep breath and kissed Brown; their teeth clashed and their noses were smashed together. He thought about his last kiss; Alana Bloom and his ill-fated advances, months and months ago.

Matthew lost his previous timidity; he snaked an arm around Will’s torso and pressed against him. Will gasped at the full-body contact. He was surprised by the unexpected jolt of emotion that made his eyes burn. He felt, like a wound, the depth of his isolation inside the hospital, inside his mind. He broke the kiss and slipped one of his legs between Brown´s thighs.

“Closer,” his voice was rough and broke into a moan when Matthew pulled him tightly and began kissing his neck. It felt so good his skin ached like it was being torn apart. “Please, closer.”

Will left a trail of open-mouthed kisses on the other man’s jaw and let his hands roam around the offered skin. Matthew’s body was lean and compact, nothing but warmth and wiry muscles. The dim light bulb painted him like a pale fire, gave him the planes of a statue while the shadows played in the sharp movements of his heavy breathing. Will rolled his hips and they both groaned at the friction.

Matthew slid a hand between them and started stroking Will’s hardening cock.

“What do you want? Please tell me.”

“This.” Will kissed his mouth again, pressed their tongues together. “I want this.”

They ended up rutting against each other, thrusting their erections into their joined fists in a mess of saliva and fingers.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” panted Matthew. “I knew you’d be perfect.”

Brown’s eyes were bright in the half darkness, filled with something close to reverence. Will couldn’t stand to look at him; he resented the unabashed adoration directed at him. He lowered his head and bit hard on the other’s collarbone. Matthew moaned and Will felt the sudden heat of semen on his lower stomach; his own orgasm escaped him with a whimper.

Matthew chuckled and touched the abused flesh with his clean hand.

“You bit me,” he huffed, like it was the most marvellous thing in the world.

Will didn’t respond; he reached down for his own t-shirt and cleaned them as best as he could. When he was done he threw the garment into a corner and lay down on the bed again. Matthew made to sit up, suddenly uncertain if he should leave.

“You’ve got time left?”

Matthew squinted at his wristwatch. “A bit.”

“Come here.” Will pulled him down until the man was almost on top of him. They kissed again. He knew that the more affectionate he was right now the more ruthless Brown would be when killing Hannibal Lecter.

“I won’t fail you now,” Matthew whispered eagerly. “I fucked up, at your trial.”

Will silenced him with a thumb against his lips. He knew that even if the orderly had disabled the surveillance, the next cell had ears that were most likely awake by now.

“You didn’t fuck up,” murmured Will. “I took it for the gift it was. It’s alright.”

He ran his palm down Matthew’s side, from the tattoo on his shoulder blade to the back of his thigh, and up again. The body against his was solid and impossibly warm. He stared at the ceiling and reminded himself that all this had point. He’d been forced into a corner and all he could afford now was to choose the lesser of two evils: the monster who was upfront with him over the monster who insisted on manipulating him even after Will had called all his lies. He thought about Beverly, butchered because he had led her to Hannibal Lecter. Just like he was leading Matthew Brown now.

Will closed his eyes and thought about what he knew of the man. His mind could fill in the blanks: a solitary childhood, alienated because of the way he talked and the way he stared, the way he never cried. Brown had spent time in a psychiatric hospital; they’d categorised and condemned his isolation but he’d kept his mouth shut and he’d grown resilient instead of broken. He’d gotten out and turned their system against them, played them at their own game. He’d made his mind and his body stronger and stronger so he couldn’t be hurt again. A weapon ready to attack.

Or protect.

“I didn’t kill them,” Will blurted out before he could stop himself. “I didn’t kill Abigail.”

He frowned, angry at himself; Brown believed him a killer and this sudden honesty could cost him his only chance at getting Lecter.

Matthew pulled back and stared hard at him.

“It was really him.”

Will nodded. He’d been crying wolf for months but it was still a surprise when someone believed him without questions.

“He’s the Chesapeake Ripper.”

There was an endless moment of silence until Matthew smiled, wide and giddy.

“I’ll give you your revenge.” It was a whisper against his ear.

He draped over Will again and kissed him deeply. Will felt something bursting inside his gut, something like elation and fury.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

A few minutes later an alarm chirped from Matthew’s watch. He groaned and squeezed his arms around Will.

“I have to go.”

Will remained sprawled on the cot as the other man dressed.

“Matthew.” Another kiss. “Come back tomorrow night.”

“We’ll plan then.” He nodded with a smile and left.

When the hall gate closed Will heard a hum from the next cell.

“Well, that was quite better than your average radio drama,” drawled Gideon. “Certainly the closest I’ll get to pornography in here.”

Will gathered his clothes and redressed.

There was a tragic sigh.

“If only the nurse I killed had been that accommodating.” When Will didn’t answer Gideon let out a chuckle. “I must confess I had little faith in you. I thought you were going quite out of your depth with this whole vengeance business, but _now_ ; colour me impressed.”

“Goodnight, Abel.”

“It certainly is now, Will.”

 

 

Hannibal regained consciousness with a gasp. The first thing he registered was the constriction around his neck; he couldn’t breathe. His body tensed and the ground moved beneath his feet. He opened his eyes and looked as his surroundings, disoriented. He was still in the pool building. He remembered, with a jolt, the man who shot him what he assumed was a dart. He looked down; he was standing on a wooden bucket. He tried to move his arms and found them bound with tape to a broom stick. That’s when he noticed his wrists had been cut open.

“I knew the noose would wake you up.” The voice came from somewhere behind him. A moment later the man came into his line of sight. “Do you know why you’re here, doctor?”

The man seemed familiar and Hannibal’s brain scrambled to put a background to his face.

“I’m here on behalf of Will Graham.” He sat down on the tiles. “Judas had the decency to hang himself in shame of his betrayal. But, I thought you needed help.”

Hannibal thought of Chilton’s hospital as the man kept talking.

“You’re a nurse at the hospital. You’re setting a new standard of care.”

The orderly stood with a smile and took a knife from the floor. Hannibal realised this was most likely the man who’d sent Will the ear at the courthouse.

“Will Graham is not what you think,” he said. If he could discourage his attacker from that deluded image of Will perhaps the man would redirect his anger towards the empath and release Hannibal. “He’s not a murderer.”

“He is now.” A flourish. “By proxy.”

“He asked you to do this?” Hannibal actually felt a shock of surprise. His mongoose had finally forsaken justice for the sake of vengeance.

“What are friends for?” The man sighed. “Not that you would know, you only pretended to be his friend.” He approached Lecter. Hannibal assessed him. He was shorter but his musculature spoke of great strength; if they fought, it would be an even match. Still, Hannibal had to get out of his restraints first.

“You can pretend he’s here with us. He certainly is for me.” The nurse ran a hand down his own stomach. “I can still feel him on my skin, taste his scars on my tongue.” He gave a lazy rub to the front of his swimsuit.

_He’s lying, Will wouldn’t_ thought Hannibal with growing fury. If he had enough strength left in his arms he could try to snap the stick. He clenched his fists. His arms felt heavy and his feet didn’t have enough purchase to balance him. He grunted.

The orderly leaned closer only to break into a wide smile.

“You never touched him, did you?” he let out a huff of laughter.

Hannibal saw red because it was true. He’d stolen a handful of light caresses while Will was drugged or unconscious but he’d always wanted Will to surrender his body of his own volition. He was shaping the agent to be the perfect partner; he’d be his willingly. And now this brute was claiming to have possessed Will.

“This is perfect.” The nurse tugged the neck of his jacket and showed Hannibal what was clearly a bite mark on his collarbone. “Look what he gave me when I promised to kill you. Can’t wait to see what he’ll do to me when I bring him your head on a platter.”

“He’s using you.”

The man smiled brightly.

“I’m the knife in his hand.”

Hannibal wondered if he could manage to land a kick in the nurse’s head, if he could do it without shoving the bucket away; maybe he could trap him between his thighs and suffocate him, break his neck.

“Now I’m going to ask you a few ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions while you still have enough blood coursing through your brain to answer them. You ready?”

“Ready.”

“Did you kill that judge?”

Lecter didn’t answer. The attendant babbled about lying and pupil dilation while Hannibal tried to figure a way to break free; perhaps the rope was not secured enough to actually hold his weight.

“Are you the Chesapeake Ripper?” The man smiled. “You don’t have to answer that, he told me.” He threw his arms out and laughed. “The Chesapeake Ripper. I wonder what they’re gonna call me. You know, the Iroquois used to eat their enemies to take their strength. Maybe your murders will become my murders. Our murders. Will’s and mine. We’ll be the Chesapeake Ripper now.”

Hannibal wanted to trash around and scream. How dared this _beast_ pretend to usurp the name he had carved for himself in flesh and blood? How dared he claim the man only Hannibal had a right to? Lecter refused to admit that he would die here; he would bleed until his legs grew too weak to hold him and he’d asphyxiate to death. Instead of fear, of acceptance, Hannibal felt absolute wrath.

Then, like a mirage, Jack Crawford appeared.

 

 

Chilton gave him the news in person. He was probably happy all this had happened. He tried to sound stern, like he was scolding a child, but the eagerness in his voice betrayed him. All the best drama was happening under his roof.

Will was to be punished, of course; Frederick was nothing if not petty.

“We’ll reduce your rations as well. I think another narcoanalytic interview is in order. And no visitors, of course.” He smiled. “Unless I consider them a punishment.”

Will didn’t react. Didn’t move a muscle from where he sat on his cot, staring at the opposite wall. An orderly had already taken his jumpsuit and his shoes, leaving him nothing but his underwear.

“I can’t believe you stooped down to seduction. A shame for Nurse Brown, he was quite competent, really.” Obviously they hadn’t gotten to Matthew’s psych records yet. “Thank God for Jack Crawford’s aim I suppose.”

Worry ran like adrenaline through Will’s body but he refused to give Frederick the satisfaction of asking about Matthew. Was he dead? Will swallowed around the thick lump of guilt in his throat. In pursuit of Hannibal Lecter, he’d killed Matthew just like he’d killed Bev. He told himself Brown was a murderer; he deserved whatever had happened to him. Still, his chest grew heavy with concern and his body betrayed him with the memory of warmth against his skin.

Chilton left, annoyed with Will’s silence.

“Oh my,” exclaimed Gideon as soon as they were alone. “I wonder whatever became of your lover boy, Will. You reckon he’s dead?”

Will clenched his fists and didn’t answer.

“Well,” sighed Gideon. “The best-laid plans of mice and men, right?” he said a bit too smugly, and Will _knew_.

“Oh, Abel. I hope you remember this moment when Hannibal Lecter kills you.”

Hannibal Lecter. If he had survived Will was sure it wouldn’t be long before he came to visit, with full permission from the Chief of Staff.

_Let him come_ , Will thought. He’d be prepared this time.

 

 

 

“Were you aware, Frederick?” Hannibal asked as he waited for Will to be taken to the privacy room.

“That they were fraternising?” Chilton shrugged dismissively. “It’s not unheard of; the attendants are not machines after all. These people interact with each other day in and day out, Hannibal; some of them are bound to strike a conversation from time to time. They chat, sometimes they get friendly. A really frequent occurrence in pretty much all institutions. As long as no one forgets their place.”

“Your orderly forgot his place.”

“He was such an exemplar employee.” Chilton let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Have you determined the degree of their fraternising?” asked Hannibal almost offhandedly.

Chilton gave an amused huff. “Brown disabled the surveillance, but Doctor Gideon made a rather detailed complaint about the pair of them keeping him up at night.” He pursed his lips in annoyance. “He decided to talk only after Brown’s arrest so I don’t really know how long it went on.”

“Frederick, I’m appalled that you would allow this sort of behaviour to take place in your institution.” Lecter managed to keep his tone teasing while he imagined himself beating both Chilton and Brown to death with his bare fists.

“I was going to stop it, of course; I’m running a psychiatric hospital, not a brothel.” He let a bit of silence fall between them before regarding Hannibal with a look that tried to be cheeky but ended up being disgustingly lecherous. “Though, it could have been quite interesting, academically, to study how a psychopath ―or at least a man with Graham’s neuroses― approaches intimacy; to see if the sadism he displayed in his killings is also present in his sexual behaviour.”

Hannibal was prevented from slamming Chilton’s head against the wall by the buzzing from the interphone informing them that Will was ready for the interview.

“Well, he is refusing to talk to me about it,” Frederick said, nearly whining. “Maybe he’ll tell you something. Some gloating, at least.”

 

 

Will was sitting back against the metal chair, seemingly relaxed in spite of the chains that bound his hands to the table. When Hannibal stepped into the room he gave the doctor a careful, searching look, from head to toe, no doubt trying to see if the damage done by Brown was serious enough to be visible. He stared at Lecter’s neck where the bruising from the noose was starting to pale to a sickly yellow, and was not entirely covered by his shirt collar.

The corner of his mouth twitched without actually curving into a smile. “Doctor Lecter.”

“Will,” Hannibal occupied the other chair. “I was quite uncertain about seeing you again.”

“Too bad you still made the wrong choice.”

“I had to confront you. You tried to kill me, Will. You hurt me.” He was slightly surprised by how betrayed he sounded and by how much he actually meant that betrayal. Part of him was proud Will had finally acted on his urge to harm, but that joy had been soured by Brown’s implications and the ever growing certainty that they might be true.

“I’m locked away in a cage, doctor, there’s not much I’m actually capable of doing.”

“You sent Matthew Brown after me.”

“Matthew,” Will smiled at the table, almost wistfully. “He is quite passionate about loyalty.”

“I’d say that. He denies your involvement, even when faced with the inevitability of punishment.”

Will’s eyes snapped to Hannibal’s face and he let out a small sigh, going from ostensible calm to actual relief. Lecter realised that, until that moment, Will hadn’t been informed of the fate of his accomplice, and he had just confirmed that, despite legal circumstances, Brown was mostly alive and well.

Hannibal felt a bitterness gathering at the back of his throat.

“He killed the bailiff at your trial.” Hannibal said coolly.

“ _If_ he did, you yourself told me not to let his love go to waste, remember? I took the poem for what it was.”

“Courtship?” He watched Will’s mouth split into a wide grin as he shrugged. Hannibal bristled. He cleared his throat and looked down at his own hands, filling his voice with hurt. “The attempt on my life, was it supposed to make me a poem as well?”

“I assume it was supposed to make you dead.” Will said flatly.

“And what would it have made you?”

“Free.”

“You would still be locked in here. Or, was that part of the plan? Mr. Brown talked about some fantasy future where the two of you ran away together like wayward children, no rules, no consequences.”

Will said nothing, but gazed lazily at the overhead lamp. Chilton wasn’t allowed to record the conversations in the privacy room but they were both aware that the administrator’s nosiness wasn’t deterred by legalities.

“Are you aware that in this delusion of his, Matthew Brown envisioned you as an active partner in his crimes? It’s more than likely the bailiff wasn’t his first murder, Will. Taking up with a killer goes against everything you’ve claimed to be.”

“Innocent.”

“Yes.”

“I was told the appropriate term is ‘not guilty’.”

“Are you denying your innocence?”

“I’m neither confirming nor denying anything, doctor.” There was something off about Will. His posture and his voice seemed strange; it was as if he wore a translucent mask that distorted his features. Hannibal tried to pinpoint why it seemed familiar while being absolutely alien to the empath’s nature.

The chains rattled as Will rested his elbows on the table. “Do you remember, Doctor Lecter, when Abigail asked us if you could catch somebody’s crazy?”

He nodded. “Folie a deux. Madness shared by two.”

It was, in a way, what he’d been trying to foster in Will. Hannibal moved closer; perhaps this was the moment the other man confessed he was finally ready to take his place at Hannibal’s side.

Will leaned closer and looked at Hannibal with an expectant expression. “There is a simpler, far more common word for a madness shared by two.”

“Love.”

“Have you ever met someone who had the capacity to understand you completely? Someone who saw you for what you truly are and could, perhaps, accept you? I mean beyond what normal people understand as intimacy. Beyond sex, even if you do burn for him, if you know the feel and taste of his skin without and within.” Will brushed the tips of his fingers against the metallic surface of the table, like he was caressing it. “Someone who made you want to follow the urges you kept down for so long, cultivate them as the inspirations they are and know that you are not changing but finally becoming your true self.”

Lecter recognised his own words the same instant he realised what was wrong with Will; his body language, his speech pattern, his whole demeanour were an exact replica of Brown’s the night at the pool. The realisation infuriated him almost as much as Will’s next sentence:

“But you’re just a mild mannered psychiatrist, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Rage slammed into him like a physical wave. Hannibal stood abruptly, sending his chair crashing to the floor. Will looked at him triumphantly, smiling. Savagely beautiful.

“See? Matthew freed me of you, one way or another,” he whispered low enough that Chilton wouldn’t be able to hear it.

One second later two guards burst through the door and restrained Will. Hannibal Lecter walked briskly away until the chill of the morning air bit into his neck.


End file.
